A Matter of Principle
by Heptagon
Summary: On the last day of school before the winter holidays, Hermione happens to be in a particularly cheerful mood. But when she has to face an arrogant Malfoy, ill-humoured Snape, and strangely behaving McGonagall, her Christmas spirit is put to the test.


**A/N:** Here's my first attempt at writing a Christmas fanfic. It took me several years to finish, and even then, I didn't post it. I don't know why - perhaps I didn't like it then (I do like it now), or my beta didn't like it, I really don't remember (it was years ago). However, it inspired me to write another Christmas fic which also took me years, and is complete this year only because I decided to make it much shorter. I think I'll post that, too, after this. I'm not very good at writing Christmas fics, apparently.

 _Warning_ : The plot is cliché, with a few twists trying to make up for it.

o.o.o

 **A Matter of Principle**

 _ **or How Hermione's Christmas Spirit Met Its Sorry End**_

Hermione opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and joyful and extremely ready to take on this wonderful new day and the million little surprises it was destined to offer her. The Christmas spirit must have got to her during the night, when there were no towers of books around her body or (neatly organized) piles of thoughts and worries around her mind. It had probably followed her all the way from the library, resulting in this odd sensation of being watched she had taken for a side-effect of exhaustion.

 _Deck the halls with boughs of holly_

 _Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la_

 _'Tis the season to be jolly_

 _Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la._

She wasn't even aware of her humming, or the bright smile on her face, as she got up and dressed, or the way she stopped by the window from time to time to gaze at the brilliant whiteness outside and sigh with happiness.

 _May your days be merry and bright_

 _And may all your Christmases be white._

A heavy grunt from a nearby bed brought her attention to another fact she hadn't noticed, the one that she wasn't actually alone in the room, but despite it sounding rather malicious and belonging to someone she didn't consider her favourite person in the world, Hermione merely grinned wider and announced in cheerful tones,

"Good morning to you, too!"

"Good night, you mean," Lavender muttered grumpily and pulled the blankets over her head, adding in a rather muffled voice, "It can't be time to wake up already, can it?"

 _It can if you want to get ready on time_ , Hermione was about to say, but some unidentified kindness enveloping her turned these words into, "There's still half an hour left."

This unidentified kindness made her frown once she was out of the room and descending the staircase from girls' dormitories, but then she realized it had simply been part of her Christmas merriment, part of the fact that she simply couldn't be nasty to anyone on such a lovely day when everything was destined to go better than simply fine.

The common room wasn't as deserted as it might have been in the early hours of the last day of school before the winter holidays, but there was a good reason for that. Hermione knew that some professors had cancelled their lessons as a Christmas present for the students, and unlike all others she wasn't sure whether it was right and proper to do this. The Gryffindors of her year weren't this lucky, however, and from their point of view, they were downright doomed.

But Hermione was a studious girl, and presently in such a mood that nothing could put her off, not even the double Potions that had brought her friends out of their warm and cosy bed into the warm and cosy armchairs in front of the fire, frowning over the not so warm and cosy essays they really should have finished days ago. But being Ron and Harry, they had left it to the last possible minute and were now leafing through the books and scribbling furiously or, in Harry's case, had given up and fallen asleep.

On any other day such behaviour would have received a long lecture from her, in the hopes that after enough repetition, the boys would eventually take her advice, if only to escape future reproach, but the Christmas spirit seemed to be on the boys' side, because now Hermione merely smiled, happy to see them on this fine morning, and practically skipped to their side.

"Good morning, Ron! Good morning, Harry!" she exclaimed, flashing them a smile her parents would have been proud of.

Harry startled at her voice, snapping out of his dreams and looking around in frenzy, as if trying to figure out where the fire was. Ron acted almost the same, although he also managed to upset the pot of ink and spent the next few seconds glaring at it dripping onto the carpet.

Hermione almost laughed as she took care of his mess, and then went on to take care of his other mess, the one that resided on a piece of parchment and pretended to be an essay.

o.o.o

By the time they reached the Great Hall, the boys' moods had improved considerably, and not just because of the food. Ron was especially vivacious, Harry a tad bit quieter. As it came out, the poor kid had finished his essay last night already, and then spent what was left of it in the armchair because sleep had claimed him as soon as he had written down the final dot. Ron tried to tease him about turning into a bookworm, but when he started to make remarks that suggested that from now on they should let Hermione do all their homework, she gave him a glare that quickly put all such thoughts very far from his mind.

"This was an one time offer," she told them, in a strict but not mean voice. She was still in high spirits, after all. It would have been a major waste of time for her to get mad at every stupid thing one of them said, and as Hermione knew, time was knowledge (or at least the way of acquiring it).

"Not fair," Harry muttered under his breath.

"You had two and a half mistakes in your essay, Harry," she pointed out. "Professor Snape would have given you a T for it, and _that_ would have been not fair."

Harry opened his mouth to either agree or start another rant about Snape (he had a whole collection of them), but Ron was quicker this time.

"Speaking of Snape, he looks rather murderous today, doesn't he?"

"I suppose he isn't much of a fan of this holiday spirit," Hermione said, taking a brief glance towards the teachers' table and realizing that Ron had been extremely right.

"I think it's Flitwick," declared Harry, answering to Snape's glare with one of his own. "The way the bell on top of his hat is jingling... it must be rather annoying. And he does sit right next to Snape."

There was a moment of silence as the other two considered this, and then, as if on cue, all three burst out laughing. If Snape had been murderous before, he seemed quite genocidal now. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to laugh openly at a professor they would be spending the next two lessons with, and who also just happened to hate them from the bottom of his heart, a small part of Hermione wondered, before her high spirits took over and she stopped worrying about it.

"You know," Ron was saying, "Snape should really wear such a bell, as well. This way, we could always hear him coming!"

"Jingle Snape, jingle Snape, jingle all the way," Harry sang, which was followed by even more laughter. Hermione shook her head, hid her grin, took out her Transfiguration book and started to read it, still picking up bits and pieces of the conversation beside her, about the best way of hanging a bell on Snape without him noticing it. Only when Harry and Ron had reached a decision and were about to carry it out, did she bring their attention to the most glaring and obvious mistake in their brilliant plan.

"Hey, perhaps we could deafen Snape somehow," Ron was not put off by it. "Or... or... charm the bell so that only we could hear it jingle. Yeah, that would be a good idea, wouldn't it?"

"Wouldn't it, Hermione?" he poked her gently after getting a full-hearted agreement from Harry.

She put her book away.

"I think it would be a good idea to get going. With his foul mood, Professor Snape is destined to give us a whole year of detentions for being late today."

Ron's face turned so sour at this that it was almost funny, as the words sunk in and he suddenly recalled the reason why he had sacrificed an hour of his sleep this morning.

"Double Potions," he said, looking as if he was going to throw up. "With Slytherins."

"Oh, cheer up," Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "It's not that bad."

Ron's mouth dropped open at that, and so did Harry's.

"How can two lessons in a dungeon _with_ Snape _and_ a bunch of Slytherins be _not that bad_?"

"It's our last before the holidays. Just think about the fact that after these two lessons you'll be free!"

The boys continued to look at her oddly, while she continued to ignore them and smile. In the end, her indestructible merriness won out and her friends shrugged, probably counting this as some weird girl stuff, or weird Hermione stuff.

"Maybe you'll be free," Harry finally spoke. "But me and Ron still have Divination."

"Oh," she said, a bit disappointed that they couldn't go for a walk together after Potions. She had already planned that and the consequent visit to Hagrid, but it seemed all this had to wait a few hours. Which wasn't that bad, because she could go to the library and start on her homework for the next term.

"Well, all you do in Divination is sleep, anyway," she finished with a grin.

"Hermione, you are suspiciously happy today," Harry remarked as they were exiting the Great Hall. "Are you sure someone didn't slip something in your drink last night?"

"Don't be silly, Harry," she laughed, even though she wasn't sure and the idea had occurred to her as well, about a second after being nice to Lavender. "It's just Christmas, you know, _'Tis the season to be jolly. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la._ "

"Hey, who let the banshee in?" a rather malicious voice cut straight into Hermione's merriness. "Oh, it's just Granger. Not much of a difference, is there?"

"Good morning, Malfoy," she said, but not without a sharpedge to her tone. It was one thing to be kind to Lavender, but no amount of Christmas spirits could get her as far as to wish Malfoy good morning and really mean it.

"That's _master_ to you, Mudblood," he hissed, perhaps thrown a bit off balance by her fake warm greeting to risk calling her that in a place crowded with students and teachers alike. Or perhaps he thought that her friends wouldn't dare to attack him then and there.

He was wrong, of course.

Harry and Ron leapt forward before she managed to grab their arms, glaring daggers at Malfoy who was now smirking.

"That's it, Ferret," Ron began, when Hermione suddenly noticed the looming danger, in the shape of a very ill-humoured professor, who was definitely going to get a kick out of punishing Gryffindors and giving them lots of detention. And that would mean death to her walk-in-the-snow-and-visit-Hagrid plans, with both Harry and Ron and perhaps even her (it was Snape, after all) sitting in detention the whole evening.

So that's why Malfoy had said it and was smirking like a lunatic now! From his position, he must have seen Snape advancing.

"That's it!" Hermione muttered, fisting her hands. "I'm not going to let that _bastard_ ruin my good mood."

And with true Gryffindor courage and determination, she pushed past her friends and walked straight up to Malfoy.

"That's Granger to you, Ferret," she spat, gave him the most condescending look she could manage (and at the moment it was pretty good, even if she thought so herself), and without another glance or word, marched right past him.

Or would have marched right past him, if Malfoy hadn't stepped in her way, making her march right into him. But he had underestimated her momentum and the speed with which she raised her hands to push him away, which meant that he stumbled backwards. And Hermione, who hadn't quite expected it to be this easy and was pushing with all her might, suddenly found herself leaning on nothing but thin air, and the next moment she was already falling towards the hard-looking floor.

Where were those Christmas spirits when you needed one to catch you?

And then everything went white.

And then everything went green.

And then everything went red.

And then she could hear some faint tingling, as if Professor Flitwick was passing them by.

And only when Hermione finally thought that all the horror was over, did she hit the floor. It was every bit as hard as it looked, and even more so. For a while she simply lied there, wondering whether getting up would be worth all the trouble. Perhaps her Christmas spirit did come to catch her, because at the moment it felt quite crushed. When she had awoken in the morning, ready for all the surprises this day had to offer, the one of getting hit with the floor had somehow failed to enter her mind.

But then reality kicked in (violently) and she realized that the floor might not be such a good option after all. Not that getting up now would save her from Malfoy's derisive laugh and some nasty comment, like...

"The floor suits you, Granger," came the taunting chuckle.

Something like that, yes.

"What is happening here?" another voice demanded. "What madness is this?"

Hermione let out a sigh and dropped her head, remembering the floor beneath her only a second too late.

"Miss Granger, why are you lying on the floor? Ten points from Gryffindor for blocking the way."

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, getting up and gritting her teeth not just because of the pain. "I just fell."

The look Snape gave her indicated that she should consider herself extremely lucky for not losing any points for being so clumsy, although that might change in the very near future.

Aware that the only reason she had got off this easily was Snape saving all his malice for the next two lessons, Hermione turned to follow the passage into the dungeons, hoping that Harry and Ron would be smart enough to keep their mouths closed. Someone else, however, wasn't quite that clever.

"She attacked me, Professor!"

"I did not!" she exclaimed in fury and wheeled around, about to give Malfoy a piece of her mind and wipe that infuriating little smirk right off his face, when her so great intentions were halted.

"That's five points from Gryffindor for shouting at a professor."

"I didn't..." Hermione began, but this time was able to stop herself. Taking a deep breath, she continued in a relatively calm voice, "I didn't attack him, Professor. I just... stumbled and fell."

For the first time since things went from worse to catastrophic, she looked past the sneering Professor and his smirking protégé, instantly wishing that she hadn't. The Entrance Hall was practically full of students, some even standing on the stairs to get a better look. Several were wearing an impression of shock, a few looked as if they were about to start shouting all kinds of profanities at a certain person, but the most dominant sensation was amusement – interest in what was to happen next and happiness at having something great to gossip about.

Hermione groaned inwardly, wishing that she had made a crack in the floor which would open up any time now and swallow her.

"Well, that certainly changes the situation," Snape sneered, completely ignoring her explanation. "That would be... let me think... thirty points from Gryffindor for causing harm to a fellow student."

"But I didn't..."

" **Plus** thirty for fighting in the hallways and five for interrupting a professor."

"But I didn't..."

"Another five for arguing back to a professor."

Hermione opened her mouth.

"That's totally unfair, Professor!" Ron shouted, finally reaching his breaking point. "It was not her fault, it was Malfoy who started it."

"Is this true?" Snape turned towards Malfoy.

"No, sir."

"So, that would make another twenty from Gryffindor for lying to a professor," he declared with glee. "Yes, Potter, what is it you want to say?"

Harry glared and gritted his teeth, but didn't speak a word.

"Good choice, Potter," Snape sneered, perhaps a bit disappointed at Harry's self-control which robbed him of the excuse to deduct even more points. "And now, Miss Granger, I'd suggest you move, unless it's your aim to lose the most points in the shortest amount of time, in which case I am more than happy to comply."

Hermione gasped, realizing with growing horror and embarrassment that she had just caused her House to lose – she did a quick calculation – 100 points! Turning red from anger and (very public) humiliation, the idea to flee into the darkest dungeon and never ever show her face again felt suddenly very desirable to her, but once again her progress was stopped.

By a wall. Of air and a very faint glimmer of gold and silver, and again that sound of bells tinkling from far away.

"What the..."

"Bloody hell! What did you do to me, Granger?!"

"Nothing! I did nothing!" she yelled back, not at all happy with the way things were.

"Miss Granger..."

"I didn't do anything!" Hermione screeched. "Look, I have no wand."

And she raised her empty hands to show everyone that this was true, and that she hadn't done a thing, and that she wasn't going to take this unfair treatment any longer, not with a headache and all the school watching.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" someone asked, sounding both surprised and irritated. "And what are you all doing here – the lesson has already started. Everybody go into your classrooms at once, didn't you hear me, Mr Boot, I said **at once**!"

There was a lot of pushing and scrambling, as everyone tried to follow the orders that were given which such authority that no one even thought about refusing. It seemed that only a moment later the Entrance Hall was almost empty, save for those students whose path to the classroom was still more or less blocked.

McGonagall noticed this, too.

"Miss Brown, why are you still here?"

"Well, I can't go, Professor," Lavender replied, not at all put off by the frightening image of her Head of House. "Our next lesson is Potions and there are people standing in the way."

"All right, all right, what is all this fuss about?" McGonagall asked, sounding patient and even kind now.

"It was Malfoy, Professor," Ron hurried to explain.

"He grabbed Hermione's arm," Harry added.

"And then he pushed her to the floor."

"And then there was this light... white and green..."

"... and red..."

"... and then came Snape and deducted points from her for starting a fight that she didn't do..."

"... and we all tried to tell him..."

"... but he didn't listen..."

"... and then Malfoy started yelling about something..."

"... he blamed Hermione for something she didn't do..."

"... and then Snape looked like he was going to kill someone..."

"... and then you showed up, Professor."

McGonagall blinked. She had been a teacher for many years and this kind of explanations happened quite often. Usually, it was better to investigate the problem herself, giving those students the time they desperately needed to calm down.

Raising her head, she observed the situation.

There were Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy standing under the arch that took into dungeons. There was Professor Snape standing nearby, looking indeed like he was going to kill someone, Mr Weasley's description had been correct. So, the trouble, whatever it was, involved a Gryffindor student, a Slytherin student, and Severus. When she was looking at it from this angle, McGonagall was suddenly able to see more trouble than there probably was, although one could never be sure with Severus involved. And she had noticed his foul (all right, fouler than usual) mood at the breakfast table.

A part of her suddenly wished she had left the Great Hall a lot earlier and was safely in her office grading papers, while the other was extremely relieved that she had arrived at the scene before something very terrible happened. Terrible things tended to happen whenever Severus tried to settle a disagreement between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Most often, those terrible things happened to Gryffindors.

"Miss Granger," she picked the most reliable witness. "Would you care to tell me what happened here?"

"I simply stumbled and fell," said Hermione, who'd finally got the chance to take a deep breath and relax. Now that McGonagall was here, things were starting to look a lot brighter.

"Professor Snape," McGonagall turned towards her colleague, and only the most keenest of ears could have picked up the slight discord of amusement in her otherwise level tone. "How many points did you deduct from Miss Granger for falling down?"

It seemed that for one moment Snape was at loss for words, but that was enough for Harry to answer the question.

"One hundred points, Professor. We tried to explain, but he just wouldn't listen."

McGonagall raised her brow at Snape, who glared at her, not leaping to justify his actions but not going to back down either.

"It looks to me that what we have here is a _misunderstanding_ ," she announced. "But of course, we have to make sure it is indeed so. Mr Malfoy, would you please tell me what took place here?"

There was a long moment of silence, with McGonagall looking straight at Malfoy, Snape glaring at McGonagall, Harry and Ron mouthing threats to Malfoy, and everyone else, both Gryffindors and Slytherins, enjoying the show.

"She just slipped," Malfoy spat at last, shrugging. He wasn't a complete moron, whatever Potter and Weasley said. When it was just Snape solving the situation, he would have got away with anything. But McGonagall was the one bad apple that spoiled the whole barrel. Not that he was personally that keen on apples. But McGonagall had the bad habit of actually believing what students (and by students he meant Gryffindors) told her, and if he started to complain about Granger attacking him, those stupid friends of her would definitely make it sound like it was his fault she had fallen, and of course McGonagall would believe _them_ , and while it would be quite fascinating to see how Snape would argue against it, the old crone might go even as far as play the Dumbledore card, and then there would be no chance for him.

"You see, Professor Snape, it was all just a misunderstanding," McGonagall almost beamed, but her eyes remained cold. "And that would be 100 points for Gryffindor for remaining calm in the face of difficulties."

This made Snape actually wince. Deducting points wasn't just saying the words, it was hard work to notice a misdeed (often in places where there wasn't one) and execute the righteous punishment, and to have all that taken away with just a single claim, especially with a false one! That was not easy to bear.

"Now that this situation is solved, you can all go to your classroom. I do believe, Professor Snape, that you have them for your next lesson?"

If such things happened to people like Snape, a flame of hope would have just flickered in his heart. The lessons! He still had time to deduct enough points from Gryffindor! And there would be plenty of chances, there always was in a class that included Longbottom.

The faces of several students (those of the Gryffindor persuasion) fell at such news. Even with the amount of points he had deducted before McGonagall had appeared, facing Snape in the hallways was still better than facing him in the classroom, because the latter was _his_ territory while he only _acted_ as if the former belonged to him as well. Besides, in the classroom, actual work would be required from them, whereas here they just had to stand and watch.

"Professor McGonagall, wait!"

"What is it, Miss Granger?" the woman turned around, her lips pressed together in a warning.

"We can't move, Professor," Hermione explained. "Look!"

And as she stretched her hands out and pushed against the air, a shower of sparkles, golden and silver, appeared, and those closest to them could hear the faint sound of bells.

McGonagall frowned. It wasn't any spell she could recognize from the top of her head. A wall of sparkles and a quiet tinkling noise... well, it was Christmasy, at least.

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," she said, pointing her wand at them.

"I could have done that," Snape muttered, feeling oddly left out and not liking it a bit.

"It doesn't work, though," McGonagall replied, as Hermione pushed against the sparkling wall again.

"Why don't we ask Miss Granger," Snape suggested in nasty accusing tones, "or perhaps her friends can tell us more."

"You really think I would do this to myself?" Hermione gasped, surprised and a bit insulted. "Trap myself together with _him_?"

"Hey, we wouldn't do it either!" Harry and Ron hurried to protest.

"You can check our wands if you don't believe," Ron added.

McGonagall, however, did believe.

"Hmm," she said, walking closer and carefully extending her wand out in front of her. On its coming in touch with the charmed area, the sparks were seen and tingling heard once again. It sounded like Flitwick, and she would have expected something like this from the Charms Professor if it hadn't involved trapping the students. No, this was someone else's doing. But figuring out the culprit could be saved for later, while the priority was to end this spell and release its captives.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," she turned to the girl, "What exactly did you see?"

"It was exactly like Harry and Ron described," Hermione replied in the same business-like tone her Head of House had used. "There was a flash of white light, then of green and red, accompanying by this faint tingling. And after that we couldn't leave this arch."

"Hmm," McGonagall said again. The girl had given her no useful information, but that wasn't her fault. Charms usually didn't call out their name and counter-spell when taking effect, after all. But there was something about the words that did draw her attention. Minerva frowned – what exactly had she spoken? Oh yes, _couldn't leave this arch_. Somehow walking into the archway had triggered the spell. But several people must have passed through it during the morning, Snape himself had come this way and all the Slytherins. Which meant that either the charm had been cast just before these two approached it, or there were some conditions on the spell they happened to satisfy. Severe dislike perhaps?

McGonagall shook her head, dismissing the thought for now, and took a few steps back in case this helped getting a better perspective of things. Archway, trap, they could walk into it, but not out, Christmasy coloured lights, tinkling... Filius was the specialist on Charms, wasn't he? But he was probably teaching a class right now.

"Can't get rid of one little spell, Minerva?" Snape spoke, giving her a sly glance, which seemed almost teasing, but nevertheless there was a hint of insult in his voice. It was unclear whether he was trying to mask an insult with humour, or the other way around. And McGonagall's reaction wasn't any less confusing – she narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a touch of amusement in their depths.

"Be my guest, Severus. I'd be glad to watch your display of superior skill."

"As you wish, Minerva," he drawled confidently, drawing his own wand and pointing it at the force field. He made a complicated movement with it, not speaking a word. The air glimmered and tinkled, but that was all.

"Care for another try?" McGonagall raised a brow at her colleague. "Or perhaps it's time to ask help from an expert?"

"I'm sure the Headmaster has better things to do than take care of yet another mess of some idiotic student," Snape muttered dryly.

"I was referring to Filius," McGonagall started, but stopped when a loud gasp resonated from somewhere behind her. She turned around, frowning, and saw Miss Patil standing a few steps away, her eyes large and both hands clapped onto her mouth. Miss Brown besides her was looking at her friend, confused as to what had happened and why she was acting like this.

"Miss Patil," McGonagall addressed the girl. "Is something of the matter?"

Parvati shook her head, but her expression belied the action, indicating quite clearly that something was indeed wrong.

"Parvati," Lavender whispered, poking her shoulder, "are you alright?"

The girl shook her head again, her large eyes staring unblinkingly at... at what? McGonagall turned to follow her gaze, which rested above the archway, on the pine boughs decorated with red ribbon that hung there. McGonagall squinted, catching the sight of something else, something small and green hidden beneath the pine...

"That's a mistletoe!" Lavender exclaimed, loud enough for everyone to hear, finally seeing what her friend was so intently staring at.

"What nonsense..." Snape began, nevertheless looking up to glare at the small plant.

"Well, what of it?" he demanded in a moment, annoyed by how everyone, and Minerva – the students were, after all, idiots, but she should know better - were still staring at it, as if this was the magical solution to all their problems.

The answer came from a somewhat unexpected source.

"Hey, is this the Make-out Mistletoe they sell at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? The one that keeps people trapped underneath it until they kiss?" Blaise Zabini asked Theodore Nott, apparently forgetting that as an exemplary Slytherin he was not supposed to even know of such a Gryffindor-ish place, not to mention its products, or talk about it without utter revulsion and disdain.

Nott apparently realized it, because he just shrugged in reply, but that didn't matter because the damage was already done.

"The what?" McGonagall and Snape exclaimed together, then exchanged a brief glare for stealing each other's words.

"Make-out Mistletoe?" Ron repeated, turning to look at Harry. "Fred and George haven't mention anything like this to me."

Harry didn't reply for he was busy staring at Hermione, who was staring back, both overcome with a shocking realization. Hermione almost wished she was a slower thinker, because then she'd have a few more wonderfully ignorant moments before reaching this dreadful conclusion. Malfoy, it turned out, _was_ a slower thinker.

"A Make-out Mistletoe?" he sneered. "That sounds like something for you, Granger. The only way you could ever get a guy touch you."

Hermione stared at him as if he was stupid, because at the moment he was stupid.

"What? Don't look at me like that, Granger. I wouldn't come anywhere near you even if you did trap me with the Weasels' newest invention."

Hermione, who had before planned not to say anything and let him come to the realization by himself, now decided that enough was enough.

"Malfoy, we **are** trapped under the Weasley's newest invention," she snapped, getting some satisfaction watching his expression change from smugness to shock as the truth _finally_ dawned on him. His mouth didn't drop open, but he didn't look far from it, either. It was priceless seeing the 'high and mighty' Draco Malfoy flabbergasted like this, so much so that a small grin appeared on her face without her noticing it.

The shock lasted for a while – had he been always this slow or had Crabbe's and Goyle's company finally got to him? - before it started to slip towards horror. It stopped midway there, however, and the next moment, he was once again smirking smugly at her.

"Why, Granger, I didn't know you were that attracted to me."

"What?" Hermione squeaked, caught off-guard.

"I can't say I blame you, though. I am extraordinary hot and handsome, especially compared to those ugly goons you spend all your time with. So tell me, Granger, how long exactly have you been secretly lusting for me?"

She opened and closed her mouth rather stupidly, as it was now her time to be shocked, at how fast he had turned the tables on her, and gone from horrified to his usual smug self. Apparently he wasn't that slow at all.

"I'd hate to burst your little bubble of delusions," Malfoy continued, on the roll, "but I'd rather make out with my house elf than you, however disgusting that would be."

"Good," Hermione hissed, finding her tongue. "Because if you did try anything, I'd smack you so hard your ears wouldn't stop ringing until the end of the holidays, screw the no violence in hallways rule."

Having said this, she briefly wondered whether she had gone too far, using words she didn't approve of, but now it was too late to take it back. Besides, they served their purpose in throwing Malfoy, who clearly hadn't expected them, slightly off course, giving her a moment to calm down, without his sneers and offensive comments (to both her and house-elves).

She was even so fortunate that neither professor present heard her threat, as McGonagall and Snape were currently discussing something between themselves. But several students heard her, including Ron and Harry, who after a shocking moment of silence, as they, too, hadn't expected her to say something like this, gave her reassuring smiles and thumbs-up. Hermione gave them a small smile, then tried to listen to what the professors were talking about.

"This is highly unethical," McGonagall was presently saying.

"It's thoroughly preposterous," Snape actually agreed. "But it seems the quickest solution, unless we want to disturb Filius during his lesson, and even then it's not certain he would be able to handle this."

"But Severus, you can't possible ask these students to... do _that_."

"Would you be so against it, Minerva, if they were blocking the entrance to _your_ rooms and wasting the time of _your_ lesson, I wonder?"

"Of course I would," McGonagall stated resolutely, which didn't make him drop the sly look he was giving her.

Hermione didn't hear the Potion Master's reply, because Malfoy chose that moment to threaten her back,

"You dare do that, Granger," he practically growled, "and I'll curse you so badly none of your little friends would recognize you afterwards."

"Shush," Hermione waved a hand at his direction. "Professor McGonagall and Snape are currently discussing what to do with us."

"You don't shush me..." Malfoy began darkly, but had to stop at that, because the professors had apparently finished their discussion and were now looking at them, Snape with disdainful amusement (or amused disdain), and McGonagall with indignant resign and sympathy. Hermione didn't like that look at all.

"Miss Granger," she spoke to her. "I don't like to be asking this, but apparently it is the quickest solution to this situation..."

She stopped and cringed, and sent Snape a glare over her shoulder before continuing.

"I hate to ask you this, but would you please kiss Mr Malfoy?"

Hermione sighed. She had really thought it was going to be a good day for her. But then Professor McGonagall asked her to kiss Malfoy. She couldn't help but feel a little betrayed; her sensible side told her it _was_ the easiest and quickest way out, but it was still unpleasantly unexpected that her Head of House actually wanted her to do it. They could have fetched Professor Flitwick, or Professor Dumbledore, or anyone else, after all. But they just had to get it done themselves, too proud to ask for help. She was a bit shocked at the sudden feeling of hostility directed at Professor McGonagall, but the woman had just asked her to do... _that_.

"Professor Snape," Malfoy's voice rang out, full of protest. "You can't possibly expect me to... to kiss... _that_."

For a moment Snape looked as if he was feeling genuinely sorry for Malfoy, but then the expression disappeared.

"Mr Malfoy, you heard Professor McGonagall. You are blocking the way, and this is the quickest way out of this predicament."

"But that's disgusting!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Probably," Snape agreed. "But it's going to be over in a moment, so surely you could suffer that long."

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped, giving him a look of warning.

"Minerva," Snape countered mockingly.

"Well, you two can forget about this. I'm not doing it!" Malfoy announced resolutely, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes for extra emphasis.

"You do what I tell you," Snape hissed quietly, losing his patience. It was quite a miracle he had lasted this long. McGonagall shook her head, turning her slightly pleading glance towards Hermione again.

"Miss Granger," she began.

"Professor McGonagall!" her most dearest friends – always looking out for her, she was so happy to have them – were once again rising to her defence. She briefly wondered why they had spoken out only now, but perhaps they had been too shocked to do it before. Or, and her eyes moved over to where her two friends were standing, which happened to be quite near to a few leering Slytherins, they had been otherwise occupied.

"Professor McGonagall!" Ron exclaimed, "You can't ask her to do that. It's bad, it's wrong, it's... it's... it's sick, and disgusting, and nauseating, and abnormal, and horrible, and—"

"Mister Weasley!" Professor McGonagall silenced him with a sharp look of warning, but just as Ron snapped his mouth shut, Harry opened his.

"Professor McGonagall, you can't truly expect her to do it?" he asked with the right amount of plead in his tone to appeal to her protective, motherly side.

"Yes, we do!" Snape replied instead, happy to get the opportunity to glare at Potter. "And Miss Granger will do it, unless she wants to lose any more House points."

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry and Ron exclaimed together, and the voices of several other Gryffindors joined them.

"Calm down, no one is going to lose any points," she spoke the words which would have been a lot more comforting had the scene not included one sneering, glaring, and even slightly eye-rolling Snape.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione addressed her Head of House, "do you really want me to do this?"

McGonagall hesitated, her glaze turning doubtful. But then Snape leaned forward and whispered something into her ear, which brought the determination back into her expression. Hermione knew the answer even before she heard it, and couldn't help but wonder what Professor Snape had told her.

"I am sorry," McGonagall spoke, and Hermione nodded as if in resignation. Truthfully, however, she was very far from agreeing to anything, at least if that included kissing a ferret.

"I understand," she said. "It has to be done. It's the quickest way. We wouldn't want to disturb Professor Flitwick in the middle of his class, after all."

 _And you don't want to admit to him that you can't take care of this spell by yourselves_ , she guessed at the real reason why both professors were so reluctant to call someone to their assistance. Because, surely, Professor Flitwick wouldn't have minded the interruption to his class – they were probably doing nothing significant anyway, as it was the last day of school before winter break – and would have been more than happy to help. So it had to be that neither Professor McGonagall or Snape wanted to confess their inadequacy, and she had to pay the price of their pride. Well, as much as she respected her Head of House, she was not going to give up without a fight. It was her pride on the line as well. Of course, she could have given the stupid ferret a stupid kiss – she could have had it over with before he even realized what was happening, and then revel in his shock and disgust with himself – but it was more than missing their Potions class. It was more than just a kiss, too. It was a matter of principle.

Students of Hogwarts should not be asked to kiss another student they did not particularly like by their Professor, especially when their Christmas spirit had just found its sorry end by trying to catch them as the before-mentioned student that they shouldn't be forced to kiss had caused them to fall down onto the hard cold floor.

"I understand," Hermione repeated, taking in the relieved look on Professor McGonagall's face and the horrified looks on every other face, continuing before anyone had the chance to protest. "I mean, if it was you, Professor, caught here instead of me, you would kiss Malfoy, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Malfoy and McGonagall exclaimed together; and it was difficult to tell which looked more horrified and green in the face.

Some students around them gasped, others giggled, some even grinned; Ron and Harry had a mix of disgust and awe in their expressions, disgust at the thought itself, awe at her suggesting something that, to McGonagall's face nonetheless.

"Would you, Professor?" Hermione prompted innocently.

"I... I..." she took a deep breath and tried again, "I think that..."

"I think that's not the point," Snape hissed, his face a slightly different shade of green. "She is not the one trapped under the mistletoe, you are, Miss Granger. Therefore you will do the kissing, and not Professor McGonagall!"

"Severus!" McGonagall placed a restraining hand onto his shoulder; he didn't drop his murderous glare which was flicking between Hermione and Malfoy, but he didn't shrug off her arm either.

The situation calmed down a bit, but only a bit, and even this lasted just a few moments, until Malfoy decided it was his time to speak.

"She's got a point," he grunted, loathe to admit that, but nevertheless doing it. "Would _you_ kiss her, Professor Snape, if you were here instead of me?"

Snape actually looked taken off guard as if he hadn't expected the question to be thrown at him, something he should have seen coming. But then again, Hermione would have never dared to say it, and he had counted on Malfoy being on his side – but that must have changed the moment he had told him to kiss a Gryffindor Muggle-born.

"Mr Malfoy, that's five points from Slytherin for your insolence!" Snape barked, but Malfoy was unperturbed, facing his mentor with challenge in his grey eyes.

He had nothing to fear, after all. Snape wouldn't deduct too many points from his own House, at least not without giving it back later.

"Well, would you?" he asked, smirking.

"That is not the point," the answer came, surprisingly, from Professor McGonagall. "We are not trapped under _that thing_ , we are not blocking the entrance into the dungeons, we are not wasting precious lesson time. You are, Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy."

"Besides, it would be violating the proper student-teacher relationship," she added, as if she only now remembered the explanation she should have offered in the first place.

Interesting.

"I see, yes," Hermione conceded to the logic, nodding her head. "That would be wrong. What if you got trapped here with Professor Snape?"

"That's... this..." McGonagall spluttered.

"This is completely unacceptable!" Snape shouted. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"You seem strangely protective about her, sir," Malfoy noted. "Do you perhaps fancy Professor McGonagall?"

"Thirty points from Slytherin!" McGonagall practically yelled.

"Hey!" Malfoy protested. "You can't deduct points for telling the truth."

"Yes we can!" Snape snapped, oblivious to what he was confirming with such words.

McGonagall wasn't, judged by the widening of her eyes and the small gasp from her lips. In fact, she looked as if she wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and slap him for speaking without thinking, and the only reason she didn't do it was because it would seem like another confirmation.

"That's it," she announced instead, turning her resolved and even slightly angry gaze towards Hermione. "Are you going to kiss Mr Malfoy or not?"

For a moment Hermione actually considered doing this, if only for the sake of her Head of House. But then she caught glimpse of Malfoy's disgusting smirk and hardened her heart.

"No, Professor. I'm sorry, Professor."

"Fifty points from—" Snape started, but McGonagall cut him right through.

"No, Severus, no more deducting of points. Miss Granger is right. We can't ask something like that of her, not unless we're ready to do something like that ourselves. And even then it would be wrong. Let's go and talk to Filius, I'm sure he can help us."

"I don't think anyone can help you," Malfoy muttered, clearly referring to something other than their own predicament.

Hermione didn't reply, watching silently as the professors turned to leave and then halted, as if only now noticing the bunch of students having witnessed the whole thing. She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for McGonagall – with Parvati and Lavender present there was no way they could hush up what was destined to be one of the juiciest bits of gossip, that is, if anyone else actually believed it; but that was not the only reason she couldn't help but to sympathize with her professor. Snape was obviously in a very foul mood, and if there was really something going on between them, McGonagall would be the one to suffer from it. For her sake, she hoped she had just imagined the whole thing – the way each professor had jumped to the other's defence, the way he had got angry at the mere thought of her kissing someone else, the green hue on his face which wasn't so much disgust but jealousy, the way he hadn't minded her touch and had perhaps even enjoyed it a bit, the way he was looking at her now, a mix of anger, sulkiness, and something else, something deeper and harder to decipher.

On the other hand, she had been in a stressful situation and still was, so perhaps it wasn't so ludicrous she had imagined all this.

"Damn it all to hell and back, but is it just me or has Uncle Severus finally lost his mind?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione turned and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh come on, Granger, even you can't be that blind. Surely you must have noticed those disgustingly smitten looks he was giving that old bint."

"Oh come on, Malfoy!" she mimicked his tone. "These are Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape we are talking about. The chances that those two have something going on between them are about as small as... as... as you having the hots for me."

She really must have imagined the look Malfoy was suddenly giving her.

"Actually, Granger," he began, both talking and slowly advancing towards her. She backed away until her back hit the wall, and there she let out one little horrified 'eep' at noticing only now that the Entrance Hall was completely empty. She remembered something about McGonagall ordering everyone to their common rooms, and she even remembered Ron and Harry protesting, but that was about it.

And now Malfoy was standing less than a feet from her, and looking down at her like... like... like Snape had been looking at McGonagall.

Dear Merlin, no.

And _now_ he was bending down and leaning closer as if... surely not... he didn't... he couldn't...

He could.

He did.

Oh, damn.

o.o.o

A couple of hours later, she was walking over the snowy grounds towards Hagrid's hut with Harry and Ron, discussing the newest piece of gossip.

"What load of utter nonsense," Ron was saying. "McGonagall and Snape in a romantic relationship – that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I don't know what the bloody hell Lavender and Parvati are rambling about, we were all there and we didn't see a damn thing suggesting this, did we?"

"This _is_ ridiculous," Harry agreed, although she noticed he didn't answer his question. "McGonagall is old enough to be his mother. Besides, she must have better taste than that. Ugh, Snape."

"Good thing it's the beginning of the winter break," Ron brightened up, "at least there will be no Potion's class for a while."

"Yes," Harry nodded, leaving unsaid the part of Snape having an excellent memory and being good at holding a grudge.

"Hermione, you are awfully quiet today," he remarked after a moment of silence. "Did Malfoy do something to you while we were fetching Professor Flitwick?"

"Ah, what?" Hermione turned to look at him, clearly not having heard a word he said to her.

"You okay, 'Mione? Missing the lessons already?" Ron teased as Harry repeated his question.

"I'm fine," she said, "no, he didn't do anything. I guess he was too disturbed by the idea of Professor McGonagall kissing Professor Snape."

"Can't blame him," Ron said, shivering at the thought himself.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Harry pressed the point. "You were looking a little... erm... flushed when we returned."

"I was just angry," she explained calmly. "I was stuck there with Malfoy when I could have been in the Library doing homework."

He gave her a curious contemplative gaze she didn't like at all. Harry could be shockingly intelligent sometimes.

"You look a bit flushed now, as well," he remarked too innocently for it to be just a innocent comment.

"It's cold," she shrugged.

"Oh, leave her alone," Ron came to her rescue. "She has gone through enough today. I can't believe McGonagall actually expected her to kiss the ferret. I mean, that would have been sick, and disgusting, and nauseating, and abnormal, and horrible..."

Hermione didn't reply. She had a feeling that they wouldn't like her honest answer very much.

She didn't like it much herself. She had really thought she had better taste than that. Apparently, she had been wrong. Oh, how utterly wrong she had been, and Hermione hated being wrong more than anything else.

On the other hand, however, she might just have to make a little exception to that rule.

o.o.o

Down in the Slytherin dungeons, in the darkest corner of the common room, two dark figures were having a quiet conversation.

"You think it worked?"

"You saw the stupid goofy grin on his face when he returned, didn't you?"

"But will it last? Gryffindor, Slytherin, it is a long shot."

"If Snape and McGonagall can do it, so can they."

"And we have a life-lasting supply of blackmail material."

"No more failing a class, ever."

"No more having to follow him around all the time."

"We can be our own men, now."

"Yes."

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"You better write to the Weasley twins and say their product worked like charm."

"What? Why me! You write it!"

"I wrote it last time."

"But you know I hate writing letters."

"And you think I'm in love with them?"

"The Weasley twins? No, I don't think so. Are you?"

"Just write the damn letter!"

"You write the damn letter!"

There was a dark moment of silence in the dark corner between the two dark figures.

"Can we blackmail Draco into writing it for us?"

"But then he'd know it were us! You are so stupid sometimes! Did you think we're meeting here in the dark since I so like walking into walls?"

"Do you?"

"No!"

"Hey, I know! Maybe we can blackmail Blaise. He seems in love with the Weasley twins, or at least their products. We could blackmail him with that!"

"You think? But what if he tells Draco?"

"You think he believes it? He doesn't think we could ever pull off anything this ingenious. He doesn't think we can even spell ingenious."

"Yeah. Erm.. how do _you_ spell ingenious?"

"I-N-J-I-N-I-E-S, of course," the figure shook its head. "Sometimes, Greg, you seem as stupid as you look."

"You don't sound very injinies yourself, Vinny, to tell you the truth."


End file.
